


Meet Embarrassing

by varjohaltija



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Clint Needs a Hug, Fluff, Kid!Fic, M/M, Meet embarrassing, depends on your definition of cute, meet cute, tasteless humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 10:25:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6980521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/varjohaltija/pseuds/varjohaltija
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint makes decisions he regrets. Or maybe not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to wonderful people who took a look at this and made it better: Ali, proof-reading superhero, you rrrock. ♥ Sara, you are my wordsmithery star (like class O level linguistic hottitude) ♥ 
> 
> And a biiiig hug to the C/C Trash Lovelies I chat and share C/C headcanons and fic ideas with (you know who you are ♥). Thank you for keeping the fire burning. :) This is dedicated to you. :)

Clint regrets many things in his life. At the moment his most acute regret is eating four huge helpings from Tex-Mex buffet last night. Apparently his gut doesn't agree with all the spicy and greasy goodness. Although now that he thinks of it, he doesn’t regret being a gluttonous pig, because hey, it was a fun evening and food was delicious. No, the specific regret he’s having now, is going shopping after eating like that. Upset stomach is a minor inconvenience – if it happens in the safety of your home, where you can sit a whole day in a toilet and read latest Bow International, if you wish. Having digestive turmoil in the middle of a shopping center – no, not fun at all. But he had desperately needed stuff and as his days at the gym he is working at tended to run long, using his free day for shopping was kind of only solution.

OK, Clint’s own bathroom isn’t the cleanest place in the  world, that he admits. But at least it’s _his_ dirt. Public restrooms are…hygienically suspicious. And so very… public. You get uncomfortably conscious of the nasty sounds you make and the olfactory insults you spread to the room around you. There’s also definite lack of magazines. And what do you know, in this particular stall, there is no toilet paper, either. Aw, shit.

There is some poor soul in the stall next to him, though, and after a minute of pondering whether he could avoid awkward social situation by using his socks in lieu of paper and realizing he is wearing none, Clint decides to knock the wall.

“Sorry? Um… I seem to have no paper here. Would you mind handing some over?”

“Not at all,” the man says. He sounds nice. Clint bends down to take a small bundle of paper the man offers under the wall.

“I would give you more, but that was the last of this stall,“ the man says apologetically. His voice is a soft baritone and Clint kind of wishes he could see him. On the other hand he really doesn’t want to face the man, because he is painfully aware that he indeed might need more paper and that man next stall knows it, because Clint has been, uh… quite noisy.

“It’s OK, thank you,” he answers.

The man says something that could be “You are welcome”, but it is muffled by the sounds of him standing up and flushing. Clint can hear him zipping up and closing his belt and isn’t this the most inappropriate place and time to start fantasizing what the unknown person with pleasant voice has in his pants? His stomach picks this exact moment to cramp again and let out scary gurgly sounds. He doubles over and can’t help groaning. He hopes the man cannot hear it over his handwashing.

No such luck. “I can check if there is more paper in the other stalls,” the man says, now standing in front of Clint’s stall. From his crouched position, Clint can see the tips of his shoes. They are very shiny and probably Italian.

“There is really no need…” he starts, but who is he kidding? “Actually, I would appreciate that a lot.” This is fucking embarrassing. But there is not much he can do. The man sounds friendly and hasn’t so far made fun of Clint’s vulnerable position.

“I’m sorry. No more paper anywhere. I could call the maintenance and ask them to restock this toilet. Are you going to be OK?” the man appears so sincerely concerned and kind that Clint is a bit confused. Who cares this much about a stranger? What's wrong with this guy?

“Oh god, you don’t have to…”and Clint really means that. “It’s too much.”

The man chuckles and when he speaks, it sounds like he is smiling.“It’s OK. I’m in no hurry. All of us have been in some similar situations. Don’t worry about it.”

Clint hears the door open and close. He leans his face to his hands and tries to believe that he is not being a pain in the ass. He is only having some. Heh.

 

After about five minutes the maintenance worker does come. He makes an offhand comment about something having died in the vents and promptly apologises after realizing that the origin of the ungodly reek is the person in the stall. He leaves soon after handing Clint a huge roll of paper and adding more to the other stalls.  

Clint is relieved but also slightly disappointed that the man with shiny shoes didn’t come back. He would have wanted to maybe ask him for coffee. No particular reason. Just because kindness should be rewarded. Yes? Maybe it’s better he never saw the man. He already had this idea of him in his head. Outfit to go with the shoes, kind face and compassionate, beautiful eyes which twinkle when he smiles... Not that Clint cares, really, what the man looks like. He is so not looking for a company and anyway could not live down telling Nat that he found someone from the public restroom. That sounds so bad. He doesn’t know what the worst thing is; that Nat would absolutely believe he picks up guys in bathrooms, or that he actually might. It’s been a while,OK?

When he is finally satisfied that his stomach will behave long enough for him to manage the trip home, Clint gets ready to leave. On his way out, he runs into a guy. Clint _so_ isn’t looking, but guy is all the things that Clint appreciates: A bit older, broad shoulders, handsome face, strong built. The neat suit is a definite plus, and the shoes… look familiar. Aw, shit...

Clint jerks his eyes back to man’s face. The man has most adorable questioning eyebrow. They both blush.

“My hero?” Clint blurts.

Man smiles. His eyes twinkle, they are much, much prettier than Clint imagined. “As nice as that sounds, I prefer Phil.” He offers his hand.

Clint is so very glad he is the type of sophisticated person that washes his hands after going to the bathroom; just like his mama taught him, and gives Phil a firm handshake “You came back?” He realizes he has been holding Phil’s hand way too long for appropriate contact with a stranger.

“I mean… I’m Clint,” he says, reluctantly letting go.

“I thought you might need this, “ Phil says, reaching for his pocket. He pulls out a packet of Imodium.

“The pharmacy was on the other side of the shopping center,” Phil continues and looks down. As if he needs to explain or excuse anything.

“Wow man, why would you be this nice to a total stranger?” Clint is decidedly not thinking what obnoxious sounds and smells have convinced Phil that he needs medical help.

Phil shrugs and looks shyly away. It is stupidly cute. ”Like I said, we have all been there. No biggie. Just forget it.”

“I think I have to buy you coffee. There is Starbucks around the corner.” Clint insists.

Phil looks at him, biting his lower lip, like weighing his options, then he smiles.”You seem like a guy who doesn’t take a no for an answer.”

Clint nods, definitely not staring at Phil’s lips. Or licking his own.

“But _you_ are not getting any coffee before your stomach is better. May I suggest we go to that place they just opened on the second floor? They have wonderful coffee and a great selection of herbal teas. Peppermint is good for upset stomach, I hear,” Phil adds, narrowing his eyes and not quite concealing the smile that tugs in the corner of his mouth. It could be patronizing, but somehow Phil makes it sound caring. Clint could use a little care right now. And not the painful kind like Natasha deals out.

“Deal.” Clint grins so widely it feels like his face might split. He can honestly say that at this moment he has zero regrets about this day.


	2. Meet Embarrassing And Live To Tell The Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is for Weremoose, because her comment made me think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta read. Sorry for the terrible grammar.

“Papa, how did you meet Daddy?”

Clint gets distracted for a second, almost dropping the strands of hair he is attempting to tie into a braid. Pippa twists her neck, trying to see his face.

“Papa?”

“Stay still for a moment, sweetheart, I need to tie this.” He gently guides her to turn her head back.

Pippa lets out a dramatic huff, her whole upper body heaving with the force of it – gesture she has definitely picked from Phil – but settles down. Clint has to admire how well the energetic seven-year-old  manages to not fidget. Only the way her legs start swinging a bit faster reveals her impatience.

Clint concentrates on fighting the slippery, wild hair in the place and, finally satisfied, ties it with a turquoise bobble and attaches remaining stubborn strands with matching clips. He is pretty happy with the result. Say what you will of his other parenting skills, but the award of the best hairdresser of the family goes to Clint. He almost cannot resist making "crowd is cheering" -sound effects.

He presses a quick kiss onto her cheek instead, making her giggle. “Okay, kiddo - go see if it’s good.”

She jumps up and runs off, sound of bright “Thank youuuu, Papa!” trailing behind her.

 

After putting all the hair wrangling equipment away, Clint follows his little girl.

He stops to the door of the living room, filled with sudden burst of overwhelming love at the sight in front of him:

Pippa is sitting in Phil’s lap, mirror in her hand. Phil is holding another mirror and helping her adjust hers so that she can see the back of her head. Phil notices Clint and smiles, full of pride.

Pippa stares at her reflection silently and frowns when she doesn’t quite get the upside down logic of the facing mirrors. For a moment she looks much older than she is. Clint can feel a lump in his throat as he glances at Phil and sees that his eyes are bright with tears. Yes, at this moment Pippa must remind him so much of his sister, Kathy. Kathy and her husband died in a car accident little less than five years ago, leaving Phil and Clint the custodians of their daughter.  

She has grown to be so important part of their lives that it seems like she’s been around forever and yet it somehow feels like she came to live with them just yesterday. Like the chubby toddler turned into this big schoolgirl overnight.

She shakes her head and laughs as Phil brushes an escaped lock of hair (Already!? Clint will use twice the clips next time!) from her face. She looks at Clint.

“Daddy said you should tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“How you met!” She seems upset that he has already forgotten such an important question.

“Well, alright then,” Clint says, walking to the couch and sitting next to Phil. Pippa tries to wiggle to lay her legs across both of their laps and nearly falls.

“Careful, bunny!” Phil exclaims as he catches her and adjust his legs to support her better.

She looks at them, anticipation almost palpable in her. Clint is honestly surprised that Nat or Jasper haven’t yet shared this story with her, what with them taking unseemly joy in telling all the embarrassing anecdotes of him and Phil to Pippa. Maybe their friends aren’t horrible, after all.

Clint starts: “It was a dark and stormy night… and I was out eating with my friends…”

 

Pippa giggles the whole story through. Some part of it could be Clint’s sound effects (pretty awesome, even if he says it himself), or maybe it’s just that she is the right age to see the story as humorous rather than embarrassing. Phil pitches in with his own memories of their first encounter, making Clint protest, when he tells about how Clint looked with his bedhead.

“I was cute! You told me you thought I was cute!” He throws a decorative pillow playfully at Phil.

Phil catches it and laughs. “You were! But you also looked like something had nested in your hair. These are not exclusive observations.” He puts the pillow aside and reaches for Clint's hand. Their rings clink together as he entwines their fingers.

“You were, and still are, the most beautiful man I have ever seen,” Phil says, voice and eyes full of conviction.

“You haven’t looked into mirror then,” Clint retorts, and cannot take his eyes of Phil.

Pippa crunches her nose, when they lean closer to each other.

“Did you like Daddy because he is beautiful?” she asks curiously, interrupting them.

“I liked him before I had even seen him,” Clint answers, still leaning his head to Phil’s. “He was kind to a stranger and seemed like a caring person.”

“And your papa was polite, even though he wasn’t feeling very well,” Phil continues. “Most important thing is to be nice to other people. After that you can worry about looks.”

“It’s pretty important to be smart too, ” Clint adds. “And funny.” He smiles at Phil.

“So… did you kiss Papa then?”

“No,” Phil strokes Pippa’s back. “It took three dates for me to gather enough courage.”

“It's good that you did eventually. I think I was even more scared,” Clint says.

Pippa looks confused. “You are never afraid! You capture bad guys!” She stares both of them with utter disbelief.

While Clint doesn’t see his own job as a chief of security in Stark Industries or Phil’s deskjob in CIA as “capturing bad guys”, he kind of understands how Pippa could have gotten that impression. They have told her that their job is to keep people safe and he cannot blame a child for having a very concrete interpretation of that.

“Everyone is afraid sometimes, honey,” he says. “It’s normal to hesitate when there is much to lose. Phil was important for me. I didn't want to fu--udge it up.”

Phil wraps his free hand around the girl and pulls her close. She is quiet for a moment and then nods.

“I’m glad you kissed him,” she states to Phil with an absolute certainty only child can have. She throws her arms around him and buries her face into his neck.

Phil gathers Clint to his arms, too,  and mumbles to his family:

  
“Me too.” 


End file.
